"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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MK Kilmarnock
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Hate, hate, HATE!!!
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It's going to be so very long, Brook... so very long before you go home, but it'll all be worth it in the end, once they see what you've done...

It was all the assurance he gave himself that kept himself going. He had worked on transplanting some of the wild flowers around the grove towards Tiffany's body, but it was a slow, boring process without the right tools. The dirt got up underneath his fingernails after some digging. While this certainly wasn't anything new to him, he'd need those precious hands later to get more decorations for the momnument. Yes... he couldn't do Tiffany justice without a more lavish affair. One body in this happy little place simply would not do.

So, using a bit if ingenuity, he had managed to find a flat, roughly spade-shaped rock, which he then fastened to a stick using some vines from a particularly tangled tree strangler. The fact that this hellish island they were stuck on was in a temperate climate zone certainly had its perks, in that he was quite familiar with the flora that grew on it. The makeshift trowel was, frustratingly, not half as effective as the real thing and often threatned to come apart at the lashings, but it was faster than what he was doing. Daylight had run out a while ago, but Brook was hardly tired. No... he had yet to be stopped by something as trivial as the night, so he continued uprooting a few violets for the sleeping girl in the center of the grove. Anything to satiate her blood.

That's when the telltale rustlings began. Somebody was clearly approaching the clearing in a manner that the wind simply couldn't reproduce. So this was finally happening... a guest to his garden! He simply couldn't wait. He listened, heard more rustling, then... silence. Brook crept beyond the edge of the clearing, staring down at the ground. It had been dark for a while, but the moon was out, so at least he could get a bearing on where the leaves were. Agility was simply never his thing, so he wanted to avoid the patches of sticks and leaves and what else. Whoever his guest was, he didn't want them to hear him until he was ready.

Then again, by the sounds of things, they weren't in the right position to hear him. He heard the characteristic wibbling of a female voice... and licked his lips at the prospect. He'd take anybody for his beautiful garden, but the girls at Bayview had so much more to offer. Each example of feminine grace, inferior to Tiffany's own, would serve to highlight her perfect. It was all the same anyhow; their blood was foul, and it needed to be spilled all over the ground just for her. Just... just for...


As Brook managed to scoot around a bush, he finally got a good, direct look at his quarry. Some of the clarity came back to his tortured mind as he saw just who it was... of all the bitches with blood festering in their veins just waiting to be sprayed all over the ground, who should wander into his humble demonstration but Leila... Leila Langford, so innocent, so defenseless and in need of a band of knights to protect her... yes, Brook would protect her... he'd protect her from this terrible experience by removing it.

Oh, yes, he wasn't crazy, not right now... and when was he ever? He was fine... fine. But any of the lucidity that had managed to pierce his soul was immediately filled with untempered rage. Leila was going to make a lovely addition to the garden.

Oh, so she wants to cry... heh... heh, fine! Let sweet little Leila have her nice, girly cry... I'll take away those tears, Leila! Come here!

Brook stepped up to the girl, grinning. The whites of his teeth would, thanks to the glint of the camera, be the most prominent feature of his to her. "Leeeilaaaa! Oh, man, am I glad to see your face again! You borrowed something of mine... remember?"

Oh, he hoped she'd remember. That'd be the only way this would ever be any fun.
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Bloodgarden · The Woods: Coastal